


In a Name

by theauthoress



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Gen, Gender Dysphoria, Trans Character, Trans Lars, it's cute but there's also a lil angst, young bffs lars and ronaldo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 14:58:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,426
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11831124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theauthoress/pseuds/theauthoress
Summary: His name is Lars. The only problem is he hasn't exactly told anyone that yet. Well, except for Ronnie. He can always count on Ronnie. He doesn't really understand, but he knows, and that's the furthest Lars has gotten with anyone.





	In a Name

**Author's Note:**

> hello and welcome to my super thinly veiled projection of my own dysphoria onto a fictional character written for catharsis enjoy your stay

"Laramie! Are you ready yet?" Lars's mom called up to his room from the bottom of the stairs.

"Just a minute!" Lars yelled back. He turned back to the mirror where he had been studying his reflection for the past ten minutes. He squinted and tilted his head to the side, then ran his fingers through his hair one last time. When it fell right where he wanted it to, he stepped back and pulled on the bottom of his shirt. With that straightened out, he smiled at his reflection, pleased. His smile faded when he took another step to the door and caught a glimpse of the lower half of his outfit. 

He tore his eyes away and swallowed hard, forcing himself out the door of his bedroom and down the stairs to where his mom was waiting. When she saw him, she smiled and clapped her hands together. "Well, don't you just look darling?"

Lars shrugged and mumbled a response. With his head ducked down to avoid his mom's gaze, he could see the skirt his mom had bought for him, the one he'd tried so hard not to look at while he was getting ready. He had managed to wear shorts underneath without it being too obvious, so it wasn't completely awful, but that only worked when he wasn't looking. Of course, trying to ignore it always made him notice it more than ever.

As Lars's mom dug through her purse for her keys, he fidgeted in place. "You know, you don't really have to drive me to Ronnie's. I can walk," he said. He could also duck into a public bathroom to ditch the skirt and shove it in his overnight bag, but he didn't say that out loud.

"Nonsense," his mom said. "I'm more than happy to. Besides, I'd like to say hello to Mr. Fryman." She fished her keys out of her purse and led the way out the front door. In the car, Lars thought about telling her why he didn't want the skirt, like he had a hundred times before. He didn't think she'd react badly, but what if she didn't understand? Besides, the Frymans only lived a few minutes away by car, and the ride would be way too short to have a whole conversation about it. So, like he had a hundred times before, he kept quiet. He couldn't make a mess with his mouth shut.

The car came to a stop in front of the Frymans' house, and Lars hopped out, his bag slung over one shoulder. He ran up to the front door and knocked as his mother walked slowly behind him. Mr. Fryman opened the door and greeted him with a smile. "Hey there, Laramie."

"Hi, Mr. Fryman," Lars responded. "Thanks for letting me stay the night."

"No problem at all," Mr. Fryman responded, opening the door further so Lars could dart inside. He called out for Ronaldo, who came racing into the room.

"Lars!" 

Lars's face lit up with a smile. "Hey, Ronnie!" 

Ronaldo grabbed onto his arm, pulling excitedly. "You've got to check out what I've been researching!"

Lars resisted enough to turn his head call out to his mom, "Bye, Mom! Thanks for dropping me off!" He then let himself be pulled down the hall, half-running to keep up with Ronaldo's excited pace. 

They tumbled into Ronaldo's room, tripping over each other and the clothes left out on the floor. Ronaldo let go of Lars's arm and pulled a thick, 3-ring binder from his desk. 

"Check this out! Recently, there's been all these sightings of something _big_ moving in the water down by the beach, and—Lars?" He turned to find Lars quietly slipping his skirt off, leaving his shorts. 

Lars felt his face heat up. "Go on, I'm listening," he said, stuffing the skirt into his bag and throwing it aside. 

Ronaldo didn't waste any time cracking open the binder to reveal blurry, dimly-lit photos of vague dark shapes. He beckoned Lars closer and started to explain the story behind each one. Lars could always count on Ronaldo to move on from things he didn't want to talk about. He wasn't totally sold on Ronaldo's plan to make a Beach City Explorer's Club, but it meant he could hang out with Ronaldo and listen to him talk excitedly about his newest theories without being pressured to talk about himself. He had more than a few mixed feelings on the subject.

Soon, Lars was caught up on all of Ronaldo's new information on what he had dubbed the Beach City Kraken. "How do you know it's a kraken?" he asked.

"The sightings are getting closer to the docks," Ronaldo explained. "It's obviously getting ready to attack the boats. Classic kraken behavior."

Lars narrowed his eyes at Ronaldo, but didn't say anything. It wasn't the theories that were the fun part, anyways. He left those to Ronaldo. His favorite part about the Explorer's Club was the secret-keeping. He had done his fair share of keeping secrets, but somehow, keeping their club between the two of them felt special. He could tell Ronaldo anything and he'd never tell anyone else, even if he didn't always understand why Lars was so adamant about his secrets.

A knock came from Ronaldo's door, and Mr. Fryman's voice called from the other side. "Ronaldo, Laramie, dinner's ready."

"Coming!" Ronaldo called back. He turned to Lars with a grin. "I'll tell you more about the kraken later, Lars."

"Sure," Lars said, a smile coming unbidden. He followed Ronaldo into the Fryman family's kitchen, where Mr. Fryman was waiting with Ronaldo's kid brother, Peedee. If Mr. Fryman noticed Lars's change of clothes, he didn't say anything about it. Lars only hoped Ronaldo had dragged him off before Mr. Fryman had the time to see the skirt.

Lars gave Peedee a small smile as he sat down. It wasn't the first time he'd had dinner with the Frymans, but he still sat with his shoulders hunched, as if he was trying to take up as little space as possible. He waited until the others had started eating before taking his first bite.

"So, Laramie, how's school been?" Mr. Fryman asked.

Lars had been looking down at his plate, but quickly tore his eyes away and looked up. "Oh--uh, it's good." He pushed his food around with his fork, trying to come up with something else to say.

Ronaldo jumped in quickly. "Lars and I are in the same class this year. I think the teacher can read minds."

Lars hid a laugh behind his hand. "She does always seem to know when you aren't working."

"I always stay on-task. Mind-readers are not to be taken lightly," Ronaldo said gravely, pointing his fork at Lars. 

"People can't read minds," Peedee said. "That's made-up."

"That's just what they _want_  you to think."

"You're so weird," Peedee replied. His tone didn't carry any judgement; it was a statement of fact. 

Ronaldo sighed. "Poor, naive Peedee. You'll understand when you're older."

"Dad, tell Ronaldo he's being weird."

"Dad, tell Peedee he's not respecting his big brother."

Mr. Fryman gave Lars a meaningful look from across the table, as if to say, _You see what I deal with?_  "Boys, don't fight while we have company over. I'm sure she doesn't want to hear it."

Lars's fork stopped dead, raised halfway above his plate. He recovered quickly enough, shoving the food into his mouth so he wouldn't have to say anything. Mr. Fryman probably assumed he was awkward because of Ronaldo and Peedee's bickering.

"Sorry, Lars," Ronaldo said. Lars saw in his face that he wasn't apologizing for the bickering. He gave Ronaldo a half-hearted smile.

Lars was quiet the rest of dinner, and as soon as it was over, he and Ronaldo retreated back to Ronaldo's room.

Ronaldo must've noticed Lars's upset expression, because as soon as they closed the door behind them, he said, "You know, my dad wouldn't say that if you just told him about being a boy."

"You don't know that."

"Of course I do! My dad's nice, and he'd never do stuff that makes you upset!"

"Ronnie..." Lars said, slow and pained. "It's not that simple." He began to tug on the end of a strand of hair, a nervous habit he'd picked up and couldn't seem to stop. He pulled the strand forward a bit to help block his face from Ronaldo's sight.

"But I don't get why--"

"Just drop it," Lars said, a sudden edge to his tone. Because Ronaldo _didn't_  get it. Lars couldn't really blame him. He never exactly tried to explain it to him. Talking about it made it real, and if it was real, he'd have to deal with it. So every time it came up, Lars closed off.

"If you don't want to talk about it, I can tell him--" Ronaldo leaned towards Lars, his tone comforting.

"I said _drop it,_  Ronnie!" Lars snapped.

Ronaldo pulled back, expression wounded. Lars felt guilt coil in his gut, but his frustration was still rising through his throat, choking him. His face was hot and his mind buzzed with a million different emotions and thoughts all clamoring to be heard. He couldn't do this.

"I'm going to go brush my teeth and change into pajamas," he muttered. Ronaldo might've responded, but Lars didn't hear. He made his way quickly to the bathroom, head down, and leaned back against the locked door.

He took a few deep breaths until the noise in his head calmed into a manageable hum. He staggered to the sink and splashed some water onto his face. He looked up and saw his reflection, water dripping off the features he hated. His round jawline and his pointed nose. He squinted and tried to recall the satisfaction he'd found in his reflection earlier. It wasn't working very well.

A curl of orange hair fell into his face. He pushed it back, running his fingers through his hair until they came to a rest at the base of his neck. He gripped the hair there tightly and forced another breath through his teeth.

"You can do this. It's _Ronnie_ ," he told himself. "You're fine. You're fine with Ronnie." The tension from his shoulders eased a bit. He quickly brushed his teeth and changed clothes, hoping he hadn't taken too long.

When he finally entered Ronaldo's room again, Ronaldo was sitting on the floor, thumbing through his binder. Lars sat next to him gently and peeked over his shoulder at the binder. "What's the difference between a kraken and a giant squid?" he asked. A peace offering. 

"A kraken is more like a giant octopus," Ronaldo said. "Easy mistake to make." He leaned towards Lars and rested the binder halfway onto Lars's leg, the other half remaining on his. Lars leaned into Ronaldo a bit. It wasn't really an apology, but it was something, and Ronaldo seemed to accept it.

They spent the rest of the night with Ronaldo explaining creatures in the binder and Lars retelling horror stories he wasn't supposed to know, but Lars felt the tension beneath their conversations. Both of their minds were still running through a fight that hadn't been allowed to really happen. Lars couldn't let it happen, because that was the start of dealing with it, and he couldn't do that, not yet.

When it was time to sleep, Ronaldo pulled out a sleeping bag and set it up on the floor. Lars settled in as Ronaldo turned off the lights. He lay in the dark for a minute, the silence weighing down on him. His eyes were wide open, and he turned over to face Ronaldo's bed.

"Hey, Ronnie..."

Ronaldo didn't respond right away. Just when Lars thought he was already asleep, he heard Ronaldo's soft voice. "Yeah?"

"I... I'm scared." It wasn't what he meant to say, but it was the truest thing to come out of his mouth all day. 

Ronaldo shifted to face him. "What?"

Lars felt his voice die in his throat. He took a shaky breath and tried to shift through the fragments of thoughts whirling through his mind. "I can't talk about it. Not yet. I'm scared."

"Of what?" Ronaldo's voice was gentle. Lars's next breath came a bit easier. 

"Everything?" Lars's voice took on a hysterical edge. He curled his hand into a fist under the pillow. He closed his eyes before tears could form.

"Lars?" Ronaldo sat up, concerned. Lars let out a laugh that sounded more like a sob. Of course Ronaldo could make him feel both better and worse by just saying his name. 

"It's okay," Ronaldo said. "I know talking about... _it_  scares you, but you don't have to be afraid of everything."

"I'm not afraid of you," Lars said, surprising himself with how quickly he responded.

"You never have to be." Lars could tell by the tone of his voice that Ronaldo was smiling.

"You're the best, Ronnie."

_It's Ronnie_ , he thought to himself. _I'm always fine with Ronnie._  

After a few more whispers making sure everything was alright, the two drifted into a peaceful sleep for the night. 

Lars woke in the morning to the sound of Ronaldo moving around the room. Lars propped himself up on his elbow and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He looked up at Ronaldo to see him digging through his closet. 

"Ronnie?" His voice was scratchy from sleep. 

Ronaldo looked back at him with excitement written across his face. "Lars! I almost forgot yesterday! I've got something for you." He pulled a cardboard box from the back of the closet, presenting it proudly in front of him. 

Lars sat up fully, drowsiness replaced with curiosity. "Huh?"

Ronaldo just gestured for Lars to come and look, so he climbed from the sleeping bag and made his way over to Ronaldo. Ronaldo pushed the box into his arms and gave him a wide smile. He hesitated a moment before opening it. When he peered inside, he found a pile of neatly folded clothing. He glanced up at Ronaldo with a raised eyebrow.

"I get all these hand-me-downs from my older cousin, but they've never really fit right. I thought you could try them." 

The box suddenly felt lighter in Lars's hands. He looked down at the clothes again. "They're... for me?"

"Yeah! I mean, I'm never going to be able to wear them." Ronaldo shrugged, then looked up at Lars hopefully. "I thought they might help."

Lars held the box against his chest. He couldn't find the words he wanted to say to Ronaldo, but he didn't need to. Ronaldo gave him a little push with his elbow. "Well? Don't you want to see if they fit?"

Lars managed to nod and grab a pair of jeans and a tshirt with a simple design of a face sticking its tongue out. He ran to the bathroom, keeping an eye out for Mr. Fryman or Peedee. His hands shook as he changed quickly. 

When he finished, he turned around to face the mirror. He swallowed hard and met his eyes in the mirror. They looked scared. His hair was tangled and sticking up in the back. He looked down at his outfit in the reflection and a laugh bubbled out of him. It was perfect. 

He brushed through the tangles in his hair, eyes never leaving his reflection. He couldn't seem to look at it enough. He pulled on the end of his hair a bit, then tucked it behind his ears. He gave his reflection one last smile before rushing back to see Ronaldo.

He sped into Ronaldo's room, his feet carrying him forward a few steps more than he needed, before stopping dead. His arms hung stiffly at his sides, and he spread open his hands a bit, as if to say, _Well? What do you think?_  His smile was awkward, but genuine, a rare sight on Lars's face. 

"They fit!" Ronaldo said excitedly. "You look awesome!" 

Lars beamed at him, then calmed his expression. "You sure? You're not just saying that, right?" He tugged on the end of his hair, letting it fall back into his face. 

"Of course." Ronaldo's face went thoughtful for a moment. "Actually, I think I have something that'll make it perfect." He pulled Lars towards his closet and positioned him in front of a mirror hanging on the door. "Sit down," he instructed as he reached above his head to grab something stuck way at the top of the closet. Lars obeyed, slightly confused.

He found himself studying his reflection again. He watched as Ronaldo combed his hair back with his fingers and pulled the long ends into a ponytail without a hair tie. He twisted the strands to keep them in place before placing a hat over them. It was a black baseball cap with a cartoon alien face on the front. It covered Lars's hair, aside from one curl that fell in the middle of his forehead. His breath stopped.

"Ronnie..." It was all he could say. " _Ronnie._ " 

"You're always messing with your hair," Ronaldo said. "I figured... it might help."

Lars stood up and threw his arms around Ronaldo. "I love it." He buried his face in Ronaldo's shoulder, not sure if he trusted himself not to cry. He let out a shaking breath, then a wet laugh. "You're amazing. You're the _best_."

"You can keep the hat, too. I never wear it." Ronaldo pulled away to look Lars in the face. "You really like it?"

Lars nodded vigorously. He turned back to his reflection. He'd never exactly hated his hair—it wasn't _too_ long at least—but looking into his reflection at that moment, he was overcome with the sudden urge to chop all of it off. That one curl was good though.

"What are you thinking about?" Ronaldo asked.

"Getting a mohawk," Lars responded. It sounded matter-of-fact and confident. Lars hardly ever sounded like that. He liked his voice in that tone.

"That'd look awesome!" Ronaldo exclaimed. His excitement was infectious and Lars laughed with him. Lars covered his mouth with his hand, but for once it wasn't because he was nervous. He was so happy he felt like it would overflow out of him. For a moment, he felt like he could be himself, not just with Ronnie, with _everyone_. He could tell his parents, Mr. Fryman, even the cool kids at school.

Then, the doorbell rang, and Lars's blood turned to ice. His mom was here to pick him up. He looked at Ronaldo, panic crawling up his throat. 

"Go change in the bathroom," Ronaldo said with his 'serious voice', the one he reserved for theories and secrets. "I'll stall."

Lars, unable to form words, nodded at him. He grabbed a fresh change of clothes and rushed to the bathroom. He could hear a muffled "Hi, Mrs. Barriga!" through the door. Lars changed as quickly as possible. He couldn't even tell if his hands were shaking with how fast he pulled on his clothes and ran to stuff the new ones in the bottom of his bag. He left the rest of the clothes in the box alone because it was too much to hide in his bag and he was sure Ronaldo wouldn't mind keeping them a little longer. 

With his bag slung over his shoulder, Lars burst into the living room where his mom was waiting. "I'm here!" he said, trying to hide how out of breath he was. 

"Hi, dear, did you have a nice time?" she asked, smiling pleasantly. Her expression turned confused as she looked at him. "Where did you get that hat?" 

In his rush, Lars had totally forgotten it was even there. He tried to say something, anything, but his voice had abandoned him.

"I gave it to Lars!" Ronaldo piped up suddenly. He faltered for a moment when both Lars and his mom turned to him, but pressed on. "It was an old hat of mine, and I don't wear it anymore, so I thought Lars might like it." 

"Oh, that's so nice of you," Lars's mom said. Lars felt the tension drain from his shoulders. "Come on, Laramie."

Lars turned and followed his mother to the door, waving goodbye to Mr. Fryman and Peedee as they stepped out onto the porch. He turned around to face Ronaldo one last time before they left, giving him a small, yet heartfelt smile.

"Thanks, Ronnie."

"Any time, Lars."

**Author's Note:**

> a tip to all you writers out there: don't write multiple stories at the same time that are in different tenses. why do i do this to myself. if you found some verbs not in the right tense, that's why. i went through and tried to catch all of them, but a few may have slipped by.


End file.
